


De-dine Intervention

by lizardinexile



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-16 00:21:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/855652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizardinexile/pseuds/lizardinexile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal finds something repulsive in Will's freezer and decides to do something about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	De-dine Intervention

**Author's Note:**

  * For [We_Have_Become_Anathema](https://archiveofourown.org/users/We_Have_Become_Anathema/gifts).



> This is unadulterated crack. We_Have_Become_Anathema and I came up with this idea yesterday and I promised to write it.

A cringe crossed Hannibal’s normally reserved features. The sight before him was beyond repugnant; so much so that it was bordering on obscene. Will Graham’s refrigerator had been disappointing, a few condiment bottles strewn about with a half-drunk six pack of some halfway decent microbrews; bad, but not completely troublesome. His freezer, however, verged on irredeemable. Though his sensibilities were offended, Lecter righted his shoulders and turned away from the open freezer to stare at the man he had begun to piece into something great. Greatness would not bloom from what he had just found.

“What exactly are these, Will?” Lecter asked in an even tone.

“Boxes of food. I appreciate you coming to check up on me, but I didn’t think it meant a full cavity search of my kitchen.” Will Graham smirked slightly, an expression that would not last very long. The freezer was full, top to bottom, of boxes with the words “Hot Pockets” and “Pizza Rolls” printed in bright contrasting colors on them. These boxes did not contain the necessary nutrients to support life, and Hannibal Lecter could not even start to fathom someone attempting to live off of them. Strong hands gripped Will’s shoulders, and he found himself surprised at just how solid of a hold they had. Confusion swept over his face briefly, the contact unwarranted in his mind.

“Show me your pantry,” Hannibal said, a touch of what Will suspected to be worry flavoring his voice. Lecter’s words and the chill of the icebox brought the special agent from his thoughts and had him moving to the cabinets across from the sink. The sight when the soft yellow doors swung open nearly made Hannibal cringe again. A few blue containers with yellow pull-back lids sat on mostly lonely shelves, kept company only by the cobwebs that were strewn in the corners. The same strong hand as before came forward and quickly shut the door. “We need to leave, Will. Get your coat.”

“Get my coat? Leave? What are you going on about? I don’t need to go anywhere,” Will responded as Dr. Lecter pushed the freezer door closed and retrieved his keys from his pocket.

“I will need a blanket as well. Get your coat and a blanket, or if you’d prefer I could get them. We’re going to my house. Round up the dogs as well. This may take a while.”

“I’m not going to let you just sweep us all into your car without any hint of a reason.” Will put his foot down, the noise of it causing Lecter’s attention to snap up to him.

“Trust that it is for a good reason, Will,” Hannibal answered as he walked through the living room. Seeing a blanket on the back of Will’s chair, he picked it up and tucked it under his arm. “Never mind the blanket, get your coat and let’s go.”

Reluctantly, Will went to his room and pulled on the olive coat he favored for the winter months. He tugged it on with more force than necessary, harrumphing and glaring at nothing in particular from behind his glasses. Most of the dogs had trailed Hannibal obediently out the door, having had their trust earned over several visits. Winston remained and trailed Will out, almost as though he was ushering him into the cool winter afternoon. The dogs had piled into the back of Hannibal’s vehicle, and were eagerly awaiting the trip they were about to take, and were soon joined by Winston.

The trip to Hannibal’s house was filled with the noises of snuffles and snores from the back seat. Will watched the landscape pass, towering trees robbed of their foliage blurring as they drove, and wondered what exactly had prompted the immediate retreat to Lecter’s premises. Unfortunately for Will Graham, his questions would take longer to answer than he anticipated. As he walked into the foyer, Will noted the richness that Hannibal’s spaces exuded. The lush blues of the room with its gold and wood accents boasted a refined elegance that was echoed throughout the house as well as the doctor’s office.

“Please, take a seat. I will return shortly.” Will glanced to his host before taking a seat on one of the two plush brown chairs in the room. Turning, he watched Hannibal exit at the doors behind him and bring the dogs to it one at a time. To his astonishment, at the sound of a soft click of Hannibal’s tongue the dogs wiped their paws on the mat before entering the foyer and curling up around Will’s feet.

“When did they learn that?” Will asked, his brows furrowed and the corners of his lips upturned from the amusing sight.

“Shortly after I thought they might one day visit my home,” Hannibal answered evenly as he led Winston to the door and clicked his tongue. With Winston in, Hannibal briskly retreated further into his house for several moments, leaving Will to wonder what could have triggered such a thought. When Hannibal returned, he had an old, well-worn book that he set in Will’s lap. “I know that you’ve probably never read through one of these, but I need you to take a look at it for me.”

Will looked down at the tome in his lap, the words “Mastering the Art of French Cooking” scrawled across it in bright red against a white and teal background. “What,” he said as he picked up the book and stared at its cover. He found the weight on his lap replaced by another; Winston was sitting beside him, his head rested on Will’s thigh and eyes looking up to him pleadingly.

“You need to take care of yourself, and this is the first step.”

“Is this an intervention?”

“Call it whatever you would like, Will. Just realize that _we_ are doing this for _you_. Now pick a dish and we will begin your lessons.”

Will looked from the book to Winston and from Winston to Hannibal before he opened it with some uncertainty. And with that motion, Will Graham began a series of vexing and time consuming teachings that filled Hannibal Lecter’s home with the smells of burnt lamb and frustration.


End file.
